Escape
by Sophia Bee
Summary: s/p 5x14, AU, what if Blair had gone to the Dominican Republic after all, I just can't imagine she wouldn't have dragged Dan with her.
1. Chapter 1

Dan lay on the lounger, languid in the morning sun. He hoped his pale skin would start to turn to a nice light brown but he knew he would most likely end up turning bright lobster red by the end of the day, especially since he'd forgotten to slather on sun screen, but he was feeling too lazy to get up and go back to the hotel room. He squinted into the early brightness that managed to penetrate the cheap sunglasses he'd picked up at the gift shop and considered picking up bad mystery novel he'd snagged from a table in the lobby that now lay open to the place he'd stopped reading the night before when he'd found himself drifting to sleep and decided it was time to let his eyelids fall shut and the darkness of sleep had overcome him.

Somewhere in the distance he heard the crowing of a rooster, the rattle of a bicycle as someone peddled down the road, maybe to go work, maybe to go fish off the pier. It was warm already and Dan felt a sheen of sweat forming on his skin. How many days had they been there, he wasn't quite sure at this point.

If he thought Blair had already said 'Humphrey' in every tone possible, he was wrong, and it was the way she said his name with such pleading as she had stood at the ticket counter in the middle of the airport, her hair hanging around her shoulders, her face wiped free of all the makeup caked on for the wedding, her eyes locked on his.

"Come with me."

He would be lying if he said he gave it a second thought, although the responsible person would have. The responsible person might have suggested that Blair turn around and face her problems instead of running away from them. The responsible person might have suggested that a hair brained scheme based on an actress who was infamous for her many divorces might not be the best idea. But she needed him, and he needed her in an entirely different way, so he'd said 'yes'. This was the always being there part of the deal.

Instead he settled himself into the seat next to hers on the airplane and she had allowed her head to drift down onto his shoulder and he sat there feeling her grow heavier as she drifted to sleep, her breathing becoming deep and even.

Getting a divorce had proved harder than Blair had expected. Firstly, they didn't have any money, so Dan used the last bit of funds on his credit card to buy a calling card and called Rufus to ask him to wire them some funds. He had sworn his dad to secrecy, making him the only one who would know were the new Princess of Monaco had disappeared to. Rufus' disapproval had radiated over the crackling phone line as he questioned how far Dan would go for Blair.

"I know you love her."

He did.

"But..."

His role as best-friend-confidant-knight-in-shining-armor was kind of addicting. Dan felt like if she stopped needing him then she would stop needing any part of him, like solace was the only thing she saw that he could offer her. He knew he had so much more, but unless she could see that, he would be left with nothing. Rufus was right but Dan wasn't willing to give what remnant of Blair Waldorf he'd been allowed to hold onto any time soon.

They were stuck in the Dominican Republic.

The days were kind of long at first. Dan would lie on the bed in their suite, staring up at the ceiling as the fan whirled, keeping the room slightly cooler. Blair entertained herself by flipping channels on the television endlessly, barking orders at the maids who came to clean their room and sending back room service. When she tired of that, she would turn her snark to Dan, making fun of the clothes he'd picked up in the gift shop, the perfect compliment to his sunglasses. He didn't have to try to hard to blend in with the locals she snorted, muttered something about being stuck in a banana republic with Dan Humphrey, then threw herself on the bed and started leafing through an outdated tabloid magazine he knew she'd already read about five times.

Ungrateful bitch.

After three days of this, their daily calls to the consulate yielding nothing, Dan decided it was time to get out of the suite and casually mentioned he was going to head into town. Blair glanced up from perusing the room service menu and told him to have a good time mixing with the locals. She would rather stay there.

Have it your way, Waldorf, Dan had muttered and shut the door firmly behind him.

He'd found a guy who rented him a motorcycle. Dan hopped on and soon he was zipping toward the town, wind blowing through his hair, only him and his thoughts. Being trapped in a hotel room with Blair was not everything he'd hoped. Instead of her coming to her senses, she'd retreated further into her Queen B persona, mostly growling at him or making snide remarks. Dan knew this was her protection mechanism, and he tried to smile and take it in stride, but it was nice to be away.

The only good part were the nights. There was one bed in the suite and on the first night Dan had taken the small love seat in the sitting room, the one right by the archway that opened up onto the veranda, where he could hear the slap of the ocean waves as they washed up on the beach. It was cramped and small and the next morning he had felt all twisted up and stiff. The next night he returned to the love seat and drifted off, only to be woken up by Blair standing over him, the I heart NY tee shirt glowing eerily in the dark.

Come to bed Humphrey.

He'd tried to protest, but Blair had grabbed his hand and pulled him of the sofa, then led him into the bedroom. How often had he dreamed of this moment, Dan, Blair, in bed together. She pulled back the covers and he crawled in, then she walked around to the other side and slid in next to him. He'd lay there, not moving, feeling heat radiating off her skin. Then she'd rolled onto her side, tucked her head into his shoulder.

It's pretty fucked up, isn't it?

Her voice was soft in the darkness. He nodded. It was pretty fucked up. Louis, Chuck, the GG blast, her runaway bride act and now the two of them, stuck in a hotel room. He dared to kiss her hair softly and he felt her sigh heavily. Then she was asleep and he lay awake for what seemed like an eternity until he too finally drifted off.

They slept like that every night after that.

He started going into town every day, walking through dry, dusty streets, stopping at a local bar for some rum and beans and rice for lunch. He would bring back small trinkets for Blair; a shell from the beach, a blue-ish tinged rock that reminded him of the sky in the morning, a bathing suit so she could join him at the pool if she wanted. He found a book store that had some worn used copies of old pulp novels and he grabbed a pile. They read them out loud, giggling at the drama and outdated cultural references.

She still refused to leave the room. What if someone spotted her? The paparazzi might have figured out where she went. She didn't want to leave the luxury of the hotel room. She might get sick from the food. He called her a xenophobe. She said it was just too much, that this was not a vacation, that she just needed her divorce and then she could get back. Then on the fourth day of going to town she walked out of the bathroom dressed in shorts and a tee-shirt that read I heart the Dominican Republic, and Dan realized that she'd stooped to visiting the gift shop. He smiled a little. She smiled back and asked him if he liked the tee shirt. he said he did. Then she placed her arm on his, her fingers searing her skin and told him she was coming with him.

Let's go Humphrey.

She wrapped her arms around his waist as they zoomed down the road and he felt her rest her head against his back, felt her hair tickling him as hit blew around. After that they started going out every day, sometimes to town, sometimes down the coast where they would stop at roadside stands to buy sun ripened bananas and papaya, then eat it on the beach, Blair digging her toes into the sand, her creamy skin turning brown from the sun, Dan not quite as lobster red. They would get back onto the motorcycle and she would wrap her arms around his waist again, her fingers sticky, and Dan would wonder what it would be like to suck them clean, or if he would ever tire of feeling her arms around him, or what if he just turned and kissed her right now: all sorts of entirely inappropriate thoughts. He was slowly starting to go a little insane with all her closeness without any idea what the hell they were doing, stuck in a tropical paradise purgatory.

A week went by, then another, and Dan wondered what was happening that kept them their, but every day Blair would call the consulate, get off the phone and tell him there was no progress.

It's not like he really wanted to go back.

Then one night they ended up staying in town later than usual, scooping up La bandera and fried plantains and drinking rum until Dan felt all tingly and warm. That's when Blair had leaned across the table and grabbed his hand.

Humphrey, she started. Then she stopped and stared at him, then started again.

Dan.

She entwined her fingers with his and words spilled out of her mouth. He was wonderful, loyal, had stood by her side during a difficult year, and how could she have gotten through it without him, and now he was here, hiding out with her, leaving his life and writing behind to be there for her yet again, and she could see that he cared for her more than anyone, more than Louis, more than Chuck, and she felt so lucky to call him her friend, and who ever thought they would be friends, after all it hadn't been that long ago that she could only find ways to insult him, but here they were friends.

Blair paused and laughed at the word 'friends' again. Dan stared at her, because her sudden gush of rum-fueled confession was bubbly and out of character, because her voice hummed in his ear and he felt something start to burn slowly in his chest, a heavy sort of heat that made it hard to breathe, and because as she told him what a great friend he had been to her, all he could hear was that he was wonderful, that Blair cared, and all he wanted to do was kiss her. Her hand stayed in his and she smiled.

Just thank you, Humphrey. I don't know what I'd do without you.

They had continued to hold hands as they walked out of the bar into the night, walking slowly, bumping into each other every few steps, and Dan wanted this moment to last forever. They found someone to drive them home, leaving the motorcycle behind to be picked up the next day, too much rum buzzing through their veins, and Blair sat too close to him and put her head on his shoulder as they bounced down the road. By the time they arrived back at the hotel she was asleep and Dan scooped her into his arms and carried her back to their room. Only then did he whisper her name because if he just put her to bed there would be hell to pay in the morning when she realized she'd missed her moisturizing routine.

Dan...

Blair slurred his name a little and reached up to trace her fingers across his cheekbone, along his jawline, just a light touch that sent electric shocks zipping through him and his breath hitched a little. She looked up at him, eyes heavy-lidded, dark, languid with what he wanted to be desire. After all this time, could it really be she wanted him? Her hand made its way to the nape of his neck and her fingers played with his curls, her eyes went to his mouth and then she muttered her usual Humphrey, but this time it was heavy, slurred, almost a plea.

And that was when he kissed her.


	2. Chapter 2

Blair was a liar.

She'd lied all her life. Little lies, big lies. She lied to get what she want, to keep what she didn't want away from her longer. She lied to her parents, lied to her friends. She was lying again.

There would be no divorce. She'd known this for a week. Still, every morning she got up and dialed a number on the phone, hung up the phone and turned to Dan to tell him that it would be one more day.

She liked being here. She liked waking up every morning with Humphrey's arm thrown over her hip, his face smashed up against the back of her neck. She liked the way he woke up slowly, groaning a little, then how he looked at her in a blurry sleepy manner and said good morning, then grinned. She liked going to sleep next to him every night, turning to curl toward him. It felt safe, and right now nothing else in her world felt that way. She needed this, needed them so much. So she lied every morning, and she figured that if Humphrey thought about their circumstances for any decent period of time he'd wonder why they'd been trapped in the Caribbean for three weeks now, or maybe it was four. At some point Blair had lost track of time. Figured there was something about this he was okay with because otherwise he'd start asking questions.

Their days blended together, her sitting on the back of the motorcycle, feeling the heat of his skin through his t-shirt, trying to ignore how he smelled of sweat and something else, and how it made her feel both at home and every so slightly hot and bothered to be this close to him. She didn't dwell on these things for long, because if she did she would have to further complicate her life, and it was complicated enough as it was. So she stayed in the moment, with Dan, pretending there was nothing outside of the two of them.

The bikini he'd bought her was scratchy and poorly made, but she wore it every day as they explored the countryside. At night she'd wash it in the sink, hang it up on the shower curtain, then pull on the I heart NY t-shirt and crawl into bed. Sometimes he'd be there, watching her as she slipped between the sheets, his face unreadable, and they'd stay up late talking about different movies, arguing about the merits of seventies film noir, discussing Breakfast at Tiffanies the book versus the movie. Other nights he'd be sitting on the veranda as the sun went down, reading some random book, entertaining her by reading passaged out loud until she yawned and stretched and padded toward the bedroom. If she'd only turned around one of those times she would have seen the way his eyes watched her as she walked away and it might have made her feel a little like she couldn't breath, but she didn't turn around. On those nights she'd usually try to wait for him but end up falling asleep.

What a strange turn of events. Blair Waldorf on some sort of extended vacation slumber party with Dan Humphrey. No UES pressure, no parties to go to, no career to worry about, just two friends spending time together. It seemed so simple. Blair wanted to hang onto that just a little bit because she knew that it was only a matter of time before everything changed and she wasn't ready to go back, to face Louie and Chuck, to let go of this life.

So she lied. To Dan, but also to herself, told herself what was happening was straight-forward when it was actually walking some sort of line that she wasn't even ready to acknowledge in the first place. This was okay, wasn't it? They were friends, after all.

She kept the blue rock in her pocket, the one that he'd brought back for her after one of his first trips away from the hotel. It was funny, she'd gotten beautiful, extravagant gifts from the men in her life, because she was clearly a woman of quality and dating Blair Waldorf was expensive, but here she was overcome that a boy had brought her something as simple as a rock that was as blue as the sky. She would run her fingers over its smoothness, feel how it held the heat from her hand.

Blair had the rock in her pocket the night they'd lingered longer than usual in the town, the night air thick and warm, Dan sitting across from her telling her funny stories about Rufus and Jenny, Humphrey family brunches gone madcap, Blair not even caring that Jenny Humphrey's name was being uttered in her presence. She laughed between bites of friend plantains, and he laughed back, and she liked the way his eyes crinkled, the way he threw his head back. She liked that he thought she was funny. Her hand subconsciously went to her pocket and found the rock and as Blair felt its smoothness she was overcome with a wave of emotion that rode on the buzz of rum and the warm night air, the sound of the ocean in the distance and this feeling that maybe everything could stay like this forever. She was lost in time at that moment, neither in the past or the present.

Maybe they didn't really need to go back. As long as they stayed here all her problems could stay back in the city and things could just be like this. Dan and Blair. Before she knew it all those feelings were tumbling out in the form of words, cheesy heartfelt words that spilled over and she was sure there was no way they would be enough to make him know how much she cared about him. Dan Humphrey was her friend. He'd been there for her. He had committed to her like no one else, taken her in when she had no other place to go. She'd never had a friend like him before, someone who stood by her with such steadiness. Not Serena. Not Chuck. Certainly not Louie.

He was wonderful.

Blair didn't realize their fingers were entwined, but she liked it, so she didn't pull her hand back. It was similar to how she liked to sleep next to him, or how she liked the way he would look at her as they sat on the beach in silence then flash her a quick smile and call her Waldorf, and she'd call him Humphrey back. It felt good. She drank some more rum, ate some more food, then everything became kind of warm and blurry until she heard her name whispered in a husky rasp.

Blair.

She opened her eyes to find she was cradled in his arms, his face close, so close, and before she knew it her fingers were reaching out to trace its planes, feeling rough stubble under her fingertips, and she wondered what she was doing, but then decided that it was time to stop thinking as she stared at his mouth and she wanted...wanted...

That was when he kissed her. That was when the bottom dropped out. And with clarity like she'd never known before, Blair kissed him back, slow, deep, tongues mingling, mouths devouring, languid, sweet, and then they pulled back a little.

Dan's eyes searched her face. Maybe her soul. She saw something in them, something deep and abiding, old, something she'd seen before but never understood until now.

Blair?

It was a request. His voice was husky, his breathing was fast, and she already knew the answer. It came in the form of sweet, hot warmth spreading through her body and she knew there was only one way to stop that ache.

Yes.

She'd never cried during sex before, but she would that night.

She woke in the morning, legs tangled with his, sheets thrown off the bed, her head resting on his chest, his hand stroking her hair and she wondered how long he'd been awake, watching her sleep.

Hey.

It was the same gravelly, sleepy voice that had greeted her every morning they'd been in the Dominican Republic. That was when Blair realized that whatever had happened last night, whatever part of their story that had finally managed to merge together, had been written a long time ago. There was palpable tenderness in Dan's voice as he asked her if she was alright. It had been there all along but now it had context, meaning, and she felt tears leak from the edges of her eyes and roll down her cheeks.

I've been so blind.

She kissed him and heard him moan a little, and the kiss deepened. Blair felt herself grow tight with anticipation, gripped his hips with her fingers, watched his eyes darken with desire. Then he smiled against her lips and she felt him shake with a little laugh.

It wasn't just the rum, then?

Shut up and fuck me, Blair retorted. No, Dan Humphrey, it wasn't just the rum, some alcohol infused hook-up between friends that would be ignored in the morning and rumored at parties but never would be spoken of again. It was the dreaded Humphrey appeal and it appeared that that appeal only got better and stronger, and she appeared to have a pretty bad case of it. He rolled her over onto her back, pressing his weight onto her, his lips never leaving hers, and Blair moaned.

That was when they heard the knock on the door.

Fuck. Dan muttered expletives as he grabbed the sheet off the floor and wrapped it around his waist. Blair contemplated the very improper urge to stay there, naked on the bed, letting the hotel staff get the thrill of seeing her very sexed up, very languid body, but then decided to grab the I heart NY t-shirt and pull it quickly over her head. She was glad she did because when Dan pulled open the door it wasn't the maid, who had grown a healthy fear of Blair, or room service with breakfast they'd forgotten that they ordered the night before, or the concierge holding a paper from the states and a list of great snorkeling spots.

It was Rufus.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Dan drank enough beer until he felt all warm and fuzzy. He picked at the fabric of his plaid shirt and looked up at the clock on the airport wall. Just a couple more hours.

Rufus hadn't even blinked when his son had opened the door wearing only a sheet wrapped around his waist. He'd just walked into the hotel room and nodded hello toward Blair.

You two need to come back to the city.

He was carrying a couple duffle bags hung over one arm. He threw them on the bed an told Dan to go get dressed. Blair in the meantime had scurried toward the bathroom and quickly thrown on a pair of shorts, then walked back to the bed and perched on the edge, somewhat uncharacteristically silent. Dan glanced over at her, her hair tousled, her lips looking very kissed, and he wished they hadn't been interrupted so unceremoniously, wished Rufus would turn around, go see some sights, and they could get back to all those things that made him feel like he might die right then and now. She smoothed her hair with hand, exposing the very kissable line of her neck, then her eyes caught his briefly and Dan wanted her.

He swallowed, hard.

What's going on, Dan asked as he grabbed clothes from the dresser and stuffed them into one of the bags.

Rufus muttered something about Eleanor Waldorf coming to the apartment, pacing back and forth as Lily and Rufus sat on the couch, asking if Serena had any idea where Blair was, because despite the whole world thinking Blair and Louie were on their honeymoon, they weren't, and things were getting significantly unpleasant. Lily had been genuinely surprised. Rufus said he'd managed to look out the window before his face gave him away. He'd taken their jet to the Dominican Republic the next day. No one except Lily knew about his mission.

You'll have to arrive separately, Rufus said, handing a pile of clothes to Dan. Dan looked at the plaid shirt and jeans he was holding and Rufus reminded him that it was cold in the city.

What about the divorce?

Blair's voice was small, she still sat on the bed watching them.

It will have to wait, Rufus said as he handed a coat to Blair. She could wear it when they touched down in New York. Because they'd be flying on the jet they could get her in and out of the airport without being seen. A car would meet them on the tarmac. With luck no one would ever know Blair had passed through the airport. It was best that way.

Rufus put a plane ticket on the night stand. He told Dan to take a taxi to the airport and his flight would be that evening. Coach. Dan smiled a little, remember how offended Blair had been that they had to take coach to get down here. Rufus told him they'd sent a cleaning service over the loft, so everything should be in good shape when he arrived.

It was all fast.

Had they only been lying in each others arms twenty minutes ago? Now they were planning clandestine arrivals back in the city, although Dan wasn't really clear why everything was so hush-hush. The look on Rufus' face was serious and Dan trusted that he dad had his reasons...

Is there something we should know?

Rufus grabbed a full bag and turned to look at Dan. His eyes moved to Blair, who had moved to stand by the hotel room doorway, looking a little lost, a little confused, then back to Dan.

It's complicated.

Dan could handle complicated. After all he somehow handled Blair and all her complications, watching in amusement as she verbally dressed down anyone who was in her way, helping her navigate between Chuck and Louie. He could handle complicated. Still there was something Rufus wasn't saying.

They were ready to go. Bags packed, Blair still in that ridiculous t-shirt she'd bought at the airport what seemed a lifetime ago heading outside toward the waiting taxi, Dan holding the pile of clothes, Rufus on his cell phone telling the pilot they would be there within an hour.

Um, dad?

Rufus looked up from his phone and asked what Dan wanted. A moment, Dan responded. He wanted just one more moment. It would be how many hours until he saw Blair again, and he could still taste her, still feel the way her body had pressed into his. He wanted something to get him through those hours until he could take her into his arms again. He needed it.

I don't think...it's just not a very good idea...considering...

Considering?

She's married. A married woman Dan. What do you think you've been doing for the last month?

Dan's eyebrows raised, you're one to talk he told his dad. After all, Lily being married hadn't stopped him and now look at them, happy, in love.

Rufus sighed and Dan scanned his dad's face. There was something there, something hidden behind all the support, something unreadable. Something that Dan might come to know one day if he had a son and his only desire was to protect him from all the hurts in the world but instead he was about to watch him walk right into a million slings and arrows that would be impossible to oppose. But Dan didn't see that.

Go, Rufus said.

Dan rushed down the hallway, following Blair. She was standing next to the cab, staring at something in the distance, her face lost in thought. He put his hand on her shoulder and turned her toward him, then crushed his mouth to hers and felt her melt into him, her hands bracing on his chest as she kissed him back. At that moment he wanted nothing to take her hand in his and they would run away together, live on the beach, eating bananas and coconuts, and maybe he'd get a job doing tours for visitors, and they would fuck each other every night and sometimes in the afternoon, and it would be absolute paradise.

Dan pulled back and smiled, staring into her brown eyes, sweet and deep and filled with softness that told him how much she wanted him, and he told her how much he wished his dad had never shown up.

It's probably right that we go back, Blair whispered, touching her forehead to his. I can't run away forever, but her wistful tone said that perhaps she wished she could.

He promised to call her as soon as he got home and charged up his long-dead cellphone, that he would see her the next day, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. Then Rufus was next to them and Blair was slipping into the back of the taxi and Dan stood watching as it puttered down the road toward the town and the airport and away from him.

The beer was yeasty and cold and tasted good, so when they finally called his flight Dan tipped back the bottled and gulped the rest, then wiped his mouth and headed toward the plane. In a few hours he was blinking in the brightness of the terminal, remembering Blair in her ridiculous wedding gown and how his tux had been uncomfortable and itchy, and the way her head had rested on his shoulder as they waited for their flight.

So much had changed.

He was glad for the clothes Rufus had brought as he waited for a cab, the thin fabric offering a small protection against the chill of the winter wind. When he finally unlocked the door to the loft he was overwhelmingly glad to be home. He plugged in his phone and collapsed into bed and dreamt of her all night long.

The next day he called only to get her voicemail. He tried to sound nonchalant, rambling on about sitting at the counter and drinking tea, and maybe someday she would actually experience a Humphrey brunch, and she was in his dreams last night but he didn't tell her that he'd woken up hot and bothered with her name on his lips, and that he missed her.

He ordered pizza and pulled out his laptop, opened up the file that contained the draft proposal for his next book and started writing. His phone sat on the desk next to his laptop, and he couldn't help glance at it every five minutes or so.

She would call.

The next day he left another voicemail. He was thinking about that day they'd ridden down the coast and found this secluded beach, and how beautiful she'd been in the ocean, but then he instantly regretted his words. Too much too soon Humphrey. Just take your status of wonderful and maybe she cried during sex with Chuck too, and she hadn't called, so maybe it wasn't what he thought.

He dreamed she was in his arms that night.

He didn't call the next day. Just sat on the couch watching old movies, thinking of what he'd say if Blair were there next to him. His laptop was unopened. His phone was across the room. He did get up at one point and text her.

Just got through Point Blank. You would have loved it. 70s noir is still superior. I dreamed about you last night.

Too much again.

He was trying to bait Waldorf, who was still deep in denial and thought the noir of the 30's and 40's was clearly superior. Surely she would take it. And maybe she was dreaming of him.

Silence.

A few days later he had lunch with Nate. He bided his time, listening to all the blah blah about the Spectator and office politics and how Lola was sooooooo awesome and a party Nate went to last week. Dan chewed through a salad, didn't taste his sandwich and finally, as he was sipping coffee that was bland and too sweet and burned his tongue, Dan asked the question.

Have you heard from Blair.

Blair, Nate answered back. Oh, yeah, I think she and Louie just got back from their honeymoon, someone had told him something at the party he said, or maybe he'd heard it in passing in the office, but she's been busy with all her princess duties and Nate speculated they probably wouldn't see much of her from now on.

That night Dan left a voicemail that wasn't as casual as the last few. Where was she? What about the divorce? Did what happen mean anything? Could she please call. He didn't tell her that he dreamed about her again last night.

Serena was next. Dan didn't really want to see her. It was still too painful after her tumbling confession that he was the love of her life where he could stare at her with his mouth open as he searched to find words to tell her that she wasn't his. She was still beautiful and golden and all her sentences ended in high pitched tones of excitement, but Dan could see a new pain in her eyes, one that accused him.

You didn't pick me. You were supposed to pick me. I am the one everyone wants, so how could you not want me.

It was always about her.

Dan sat in her room and listened to her ramble on about clothes and a recent trip to Barney's, smiled when she said it was nice that they could do this, just hang out, just be friends. He ignored the sliver of hope in her voice, held still when her hand brushed his shoulder. Then he finally said what he came to say, keeping his voice flat, uncaring, casual, like they'd arrived at the end of all other conversation and he might as well inquire out of politeness.

Have you heard from Blair.

Serena cocked her head and looked at him through narrowed eyes, and he could hear his dad's voice telling him yet again that she was a married woman, which was almost what Serena's face was saying, and he guessed he hadn't done casual that well.

Actually, I haven't.

That led to the wedding, and how beautiful Blair had looked, and how lucky she was to have a month-long honeymoon, but surely she would have called when she got back. It almost seemed Serena enjoyed going on and on about Blair and another man. Then it was on to the same party Nate had talked about, who was kissing who in the coat check room. Dan didn't hear much more, but he made himself stay longer just so he didn't look rude.

That night he called her voicemail. He'd had a couple beers. He was feeling sorry for himself. He told her that he missed her, then felt stupid and hung up, then wished he'd erased that message entirely.

He didn't dream about her that night.

Dan tried to ignore it, but something clenched tight in his stomach and he thought that maybe their hotel room and the warm ocean breeze now seemed like a dream, and he wasn't really sure it happened. Maybe he'd just been in the loft in some deep dream-like alternate reality where Lonely Boy actually got what he wanted. Except that Rufus had been there, and suddenly Dan wanted his dad, someone to tell him that it would be okay as he felt the hairline cracks of heartbreak start to form, and someone who would tell him that he had walked into a hotel room and found the most unlikely of pairings, Dan Humphrey and Blair Waldorf, and that it was real. He had a witness.

He wrote a poem that night, something he hadn't done since high school, and he missed the feeling of being hyper-caffeinated and the way his hands had shook as he wrote lines that worshipped Serena. He wrote a poem because people who wrote poems either still had hope that love was out there or hope that there was meaning in all of the pain.

The next day he went to see Rufus. On the way there Dan remembered Rufus' words and the look in his eyes.

It's complicated.

He knew something.

His dad didn't deny that he knew something. He just said that Dan needed to talk to Blair. Dan left determined that it was time for Blair Waldorf to stop ignoring him. As soon as he got home to the quietness of the loft he pulled out his phone and pressed the speed dial for her number. He was ready to tell her that that rum-infused night had meant something, something he wasn't going to ignore anymore. That they couldn't go back to what it was before, so stop ignoring him. He was ready to tell her that he wanted so much more and he thought she did too.

He told her nothing. Just stood there as he listened to the recording, tinny in his ear.

...this line has been disconnected...

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

You've been on your honeymoon.

Blair felt the leather seat sticky on the back of her legs. The air in the cabin was thick and warm, the smell of jet fuel making her feel a little nauseated. The a/c was just starting to kick in but it wouldn't be in full force until they were in the air. She looked across the seats to see Rufus pushing a magazine toward her.

She could still taste Dan, the salt of his skin as she'd nipped his shoulder lightly with her teeth, as she'd kissed her way up the column of his throat. So sitting here with his dad was very much on the surreal side, and so was the cover of the magazine she now held in her hands.

New York's Princess on Her Honeymoon, Exclusive Pictures.

What the fuck?

These are pictures from last summer, she told Rufus as she flipped through the magazine to find the article. From the vacation on the royal yacht. They'd been touched up a bit, but there she was frolicking in the surf, a supposedly happily married woman.

You even gave an interview, Rufus told her and Blair found one of those Q&A interviews where she coyly refused to discuss their sex life and said that she was thoroughly enjoying her royal duties and that her cause du jour would be HIV + children in Africa.

What. The. Fuck.

What else is going on, Blair asked, her eyes narrowing. Rufus sighed and told her again that she really needed to talk to her mother, that he was just getting her back to the city as fast as possible and Eleanor would fill her in.

Blair felt anger welling up. She'd had enough of the manipulations of Louie and his family. First trapping her in an entirely fake marriage and now sending out false information to the press. She was done. As soon as she returned she would ask Cyrus to start divorce proceedings, and then...

Then...

What the hell had happened last night? Blair's hand dipped into the pocket of her sweatshirt and she found that rock, smooth and cool against her fingers. Last night stood out sharply in her mind, the way Dan had kissed her, the way she had opened up her mouth and kissed him back and the way everything in her seemed to burn. The way he'd strained over her, breathing hard, her name on his lips. The way she'd felt everything go tight as her toes flexed and she let out a guttural grunt as she came. At the same time, it was all blurry, a haze of tangled arms and legs, of intensity and want and wishing it would never stop.

She remember the way he had slept, his breathing deep and even, until she could stand it no longer and started trailing kisses along his jawline until he woke up and crushed his lips to hers and they started over again.

Blair Waldorf fucked Dan Humphrey. She'd done it more than once. She'd liked it.

Blair would get back to the states, talk to Eleanor, get the proceedings started to end the biggest mistake of her life, and then she would figure out what all of this was.

They touched down in the middle of the day, the winds whipping through her on the tarmac and Blair pulled her coat tighter around her. Rufus gave her a scarf to cover her hair and she put on the cheap sunglasses she'd bought at the hotel gift shop. They hurried to the waiting town car and headed toward the upper east side. Despite having to face Louie and the Grimaldis, Blair was glad to be back. Before she'd been running away, but now she felt like maybe there was something to run to.

The penthouse was quiet when she arrived, plopping her luggage in the foyer. She wanted to call Dan, but she knew he was still waiting for his flight, and his phone was dead, so instead she had Dorota draw up bath, warm and full of bubbles, then lay in the water, her eyes closed, her thoughts wandering to how his hands had stroked her thighs, fingers gentle...

Goddammit Waldorf, you'd think it was the first time you'd had sex considering how one night with Humphrey was completely dominating your thoughts. She willed herself to think about something else, like what couture she would score during fashion week or how much she hated tights-as-pants, but her thoughts kept wandering back to small, inconsequential moments, like the way he tugged on her bottom lip a little as he was kissing her.

Really.

Eleanor arrived a few hours later. Blair padded downstairs in her dressing gown to greet her mother. Dorota had prepared cups of hot chocolate and they sat at the counter sipping them.

I'm going to ask for a divorce, Blair told her mother, the cocoa burning her tongue a little. She'd have to make sure Dorota made it the right temperature next time.

Eleanor looked at Blair, her eyes wide with surprise at Blair's words.

Rufus didn't tell you, she asked, her face suddenly creased with worry.

Tell me what, Blair responded, setting the cup down on the marble counter. The mood had suddenly shifted, and there was something between them, something more than a mother greeting her daughter.

I really thought he'd tell you, Eleanor sighed.

He did show me that ridiculous honeymoon article and the, um, interview I supposedly gave, Blair said as she rolled her eyes.

It was much worse than that. Her mom told her that everyone had thought they were on their honeymoon, until a couple weeks ago when Louie and his mother had shown up at the penthouse early one morning. He told Eleanor and Cyrus that Blair had actually run out of the wedding and was nowhere to be found. He demanded to know where they were.

At least we were honestly ignorant, Eleanor said. Because I don't know if I could have kept where you were a secret.

There had been threats made, the words prenup and dowry were thrown around. Eleanor had told them where to stick their dowry and prenup and everything else. She knew if her daughter had run away after the wedding, she had good reason. She had stood behind Blair.

Blair took her mom's hand in hers.

I wish you could have seen Louie, Eleanor laughed wryly. He started yelling at us to tell us where you were, his face turning red, and I thought he might have an aneurysm right there, although that might have taken care of this mess. But his mother was the worst, all cool and collected, spouting off about all of your royal duties and that the Grimaldi family would not suffer this embarrassment. She left and Eleanor told Blair that she had figured this would all blow over, Blair would return and they'd figure it all out.

A week passed. Then Eleanor started getting phone calls from members of her company's stock holders. Someone was starting to buy up a lot of stock and it was actually getting to the point of having enough to control a vote.

Those bastards, Blair gasped, as she realized that the Grimaldi's were not only content to bankrupt her mother personally, but that they were going after her mom's company as well.

Yes, Eleanor hissed. My thoughts exactly.

That was when Eleanor had decided to try to find Blair.

I started with Chuck, she said. Blair snorted a little. Dead end. Then I tried Lily and Serena, thinking you may have talked to your best friend. Then Rufus called me today to tell me you were coming home. I don't know how he knew where...

Blair cut her mother off. I don't really want to talk about it, she said, ending the conversation. She realized that no one knew that she'd escaped with Dan and she wanted to keep it that way.

I'm stuck, Blair, her mom said, her eyes pleading. I want you to be happy, but this threat to my business, it's real. Cyrus is working on a way out of it, but in the meantime, I think you need to return to Louie and see what their terms are.

Blair swallowed and nodded.

The next day she was sitting in their living room with Louie and his mother. Louie's face was a cold mask as he gazed at her from across the room.

...she will fulfill the contract of one year...

Louie's mother was calmly reading out the terms that were to be Blair's gilded cage.

...she would be obligated to at least two public appearances a month...

The man she had married in good faith was gone. In his place was someone as cold and calculating as most of the men she'd ever chosen. Blair decided that at this point Louie could give Chuck a run for his money.

...a handler will be present at all times, spending the night with the princess...

Blair rolled her eyes.

...the princess will end all connections with her current friends under the pretense of royal duties...

No. Blair tried to hide her reaction. No Serena, no Nate, no...no Dan. For the first time during the meeting she felt tears start to form.

...in three months the princess will move her residence from New York City to Monaco...

At this point Blair stood up and ran from the room. She didn't stay to hear that she would have to return all gowns, jewelry, other accessories after the union was dissolved. She didn't hear that she'd be given a meager allowance. She ran upstairs and threw herself onto her bed and cried.

When Blair finally was able to slow the tears down she noticed that her phone had a message. She grabbed it and dialed her voicemail.

Dan.

His voice was low and rumbly, and she remembered that same voice humming by her hear, whispering her name, telling her that he'd been wanting this for so long. For one moment all her problems lifted away. He talked too much on the message, rambling about what he was drinking, the flight home, something about waffles and then he ended it by saying in a quiet voice.

I miss you.

Blair realized that missed him too and she wanted so badly to pick up her phone and dial his number and hear his voice, maybe a little surprised, definitely warm, and they might banter a little and she'd make fun of Brooklyn compared to the beaches, and then she'd sigh and tell him how everything was really fucked up and all she wanted was to get through this and then, maybe then, maybe something mundane and silly like a date. Maybe he'd tell her he was coming over anyway, that he didn't care about contracts, and she'd protest a bit, but he'd insist and then she'd get ready in a flurry knowing that he most likely wouldn't care what she was wearing because he'd be busy tearing it off. Then again, maybe she'd forgo clothes and have Dorota send him up to her room where she'd be waiting naked and she'd watch that desire darken his eyes yet again.

If things weren't so complicated.

His voicemails became her lifeline. When he didn't call she would yell at Dorota and snap at her Estee, her royal minder. She slept with her phone under her pillow. He said he dreamed of her and she wanted to call him back and tell him that he was in her dreams as well: hot, sweaty dreams, sweet and loving dreams, dirty dreams.

She had it bad.

Instead she played the game. She smiled at her handler, and didn't dare get caught calling or texting, waiting, hoping that Cyrus would find a way out of this for her and then she could explain it all to Dan and maybe they could start figuring out what the hell all of this was. Dan's voicemails became more serious, more urgent, and she cried herself to sleep some nights because she was to trapped.

Blair felt like she was walking a tightrope, waiting for something to make her situation less difficult, pretending that she wasn't trapped into this contract for a year, hiding her phone from Estee, sneaking into the bathroom at night to listen to Dan's voice over and over, wiping her eyes to hide her tears.

Then one day the tightrope broke.

I know, Louie said, pacing back and forth in her beautifully furnished room.

Know what, Blair blinked, wishing he would leave soon, his presence making her feel ill.

You. Dan Humphrey.

I don't know what you're talking about, Blair said, keeping her voice even. Dan Humphrey means nothing to me and if you think that he and I...you really don't know me. She laughed and it sounded strange in the silence between them, then picked at the hem of her dressing gown a little, glancing toward the floor.

Blair was a liar after all.

Shut up. Louie's demeanor changed from angry to threatening. Blair decided to stop talking.

I know. Louie throw an envelop down on the bed. Blair slowly took it into her hands and opened it, ignoring how they'd started to tremble. Inside was a series of black and white photos. Her. Dan. Walking down the street, holding hands. Kissing next to a cab. Blair felt like she couldn't breathe.

How...

Seems my mother had already found you but Rufus brought you back before we could. We've known all along you were in the Caribbean with Humphrey.

Louie pulled his hand out of his pocket. In it was her cell phone.

But this...THIS.

No. Blair lunged forward and tried to grab the phone. It's mine, it's my personal business, you can't...

Nothing is yours anymore Blair. Nothing. Estee found the text from Dan. You have violated the contract already. Is there anything sacred to you, Blair, anything? How badly do you want to embarrass this family?

Louie continue to berate her. Blair just sat at the edge of the bed, her whole body feeling numb and cold, almost feeling like she was watching a bad movie of her life.

If you see him, Louie hissed. If you call him, text him, write him a pathetic love letter, I will know. And I will destroy him. Do you understand.

Blair steeled herself, lifted her head and stared back at Louie. I understand, she hissed back through clenched teeth. He threw her phone on the bed and Blair grabbed for it.

Don't bother, Louie said. It's been disconnected.

Blair sat on the edge of the bed as Louie walked out her room and shut the door. She sat with her back straight and her eyes unwavering. As soon as the door clicked she slowly curled back onto the duvet, her knees tucking into her chest, one hand going to the pocket of her dressing gown to find the rock Dan had given her what now seemed a lifetime ago. She felt it's coolness, rubbed in with her fingers. It was the only thing she had left.

Then the tears finally came.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

At some point he grew used to the silence. The clang of the pipes in the middle of the night, the muted sounds of cars driving by on the streets, the sounds of people downstairs moving furniture in the middle of the night. It all combined into silence that wasn't entirely quiet. Dan would lie on his bed and it remotely reminded him of staring up at the ceiling fan in their hotel, which felt like at least a lifetime ago.

It was over before it had even started.

He felt like such a fool. All the time by her side, all that time being her friend, then finally, finally he kissed for the third time in his life and she kissed him back and more, and now nothing. He was discarded, thrown aside like last year's Prada handbag. She didn't care.

He grew used to the silence. The phone not ringing. No email. Just a giant black hole of nothingness. If he knew how to get ahold of her he might have tried to call, but he had no idea. A couple times he had actually made it all the way to her building but the doorman had turned him away, saying that Her Royal Highness has asked that he not come to call again. Dan had shoved his hands into his pockets and turned back toward home, icy snow from a late winter storm pelting his face.

He still dreamed of her. He wish he didn't, but if he managed to get to sleep there was no way to control where his brain went. He would wake up sweating, breathing hard, and in the darkest hours of the night he allowed himself to miss her a little bit.

He tried to write. He would sit in front of his laptop for what felt like hours, staring at one or two lines of prose on the glaring white screen, biting one of his fingernails, his mind wandering. He would tell himself he just needed to find some other source of inspiration, and one night he actually shaved, threw on some decent clothes and headed to a local bar to see if maybe there was another muse for him. All he was met with were vacuous, vacant, dizzy girls teetering in high heels with too much makeup who laughed to loud and too hard. He'd spent most of the night sitting on a vinyl stool nursing an increasingly warm beer, wishing she were there, playing over and over in his head all the witty and snide comments she would make about the commoners he was surrounded by.

Serena came by, stepping through the doorway of the loft in her usual breezy way, prattling on about something inane and useless, her smile still a million kilowatts and Dan knew why everyone loved Serena Van Der Woodsen.

This second books is really getting to you, Dan, she said, taking in his messy hair and unshaven face. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling suddenly self-conscious about his untamed curls, and claimed that he just couldn't sleep.

It was the truth.

He missed the weekly brunches and Lily called, her voice ringing like a bell on his voicemail. We miss you Dan. He missed them too, but playing a part was too much for him right now. All he wanted was the silence. To be left alone.

Oh, and Blair. He wanted Blair. He wanted beaches and sunshine and her smile that made him feel like the only person in the world, made him want to lean over and kiss her as she laughed and protested until she could no longer protest and sighed into his mouth.

One morning he woke to the sounds of someone in the kitchen. He'd finally managed to drift to sleep just after he heard the clang of the delivery truck with it's morning delivery to the bodega across the street, but even then he'd slept fitfully, but at least she wasn't in his dreams that night.

Dan wandered out of his bedroom to find Rufus pouring batter into a waffle iron sitting on the counter. It was his dad's special waffle iron. No one made waffles as often as Rufus without developing technique and having special gear. Dan inhaled the yeasty warm smell permeating the loft.

No one can live by beer and pizza alone, Rufus said, smiling as pushed a plate toward Dan. There was butter on the counter and real maple syrup. Dan smiled and realized that he'd been missing his dad's waffles.

And coffee. Rufus had made coffee as well. Dan realized for the first time in a long time that he was hungry.

They ate in silence.

Rufus put his fork down on his empty plate and the noise was jarring in the quiet. Dan glanced up at him. He knew there was a reason for this visit. Here it came.

Have you talked to Blair, Rufus asked, watching Dan from across the counter. Dan shrugged a little and sighed.

No. She doesn't want to talk to me.

I think you're wrong.

How could he be wrong? He'd called, he'd left messages, and the final answer had been her disconnecting her phone. Dan had redialed her number about ten times that night, each time met with the same recording. She clearly didn't want to talk to him. She clearly didn't care like he did.

It's over dad. What happened was just Blair Waldorf using me. She's back with Louie, she said she wanted a divorce but she didn't. I was just cold feet for her, a diversion, a way to try to temporarily escape the parts of her life that she didn't want to face. But she clearly faced them. You were right, she's a married woman, and I have to move on, I have to forget her, I have to...

Dan felt that pain start creeping into his heart as his words faded away. Dammit, waffles clearly weren't the cure for everything. He still ached so badly for her.

Rufus didn't say anything, just looked at Dan, the pain his son was going through mirrored on his own face. He stood up and walked over to Dan, wrapping his arms around him and suddenly Dan felt about five years old and very much that he needed his father.

It's going to be okay, Rufus said as he released Dan from his grip. I think you need to find a way to talk to her. I can't tell you the details, but there's more going on here than you may know. It's just not for me to tell you. You need to talk to Blair. You love her, right?

Dan nodded. He did love her. He wished all of those feelings could have faded over the last few weeks, but they were still there. No matter what was going on, nothing changed the fact that he love Blair Waldorf. He was heartsick over Blair Waldorf.

Find a way, Rufus said, then turned and started to clean up the kitchen.

He started with the person who he knew was closest to Blair.

Mr. Dan, I cannot tell you anything about Miss Blair, Dorota whispered over the phone. She is princess now, busy with princess things.

Dan had a flash of insight. What is her next princess thing, he asked Darota? He heard her mutter in Polish.

I tell you that I cannot tell you, but talk to Mr. Bass. He will know.

Dan hung up the phone and smirked a little. Chuck Bass. Of course he would have to come into play here. He grabbed his coat and headed toward the upper east side.

Humphrey!

Chuck's voice was smooth as silk as he glided toward the elevator doors where Dan stood. He looked over Dan, taking in his worn t-shirt and jeans and no doubt comparing it to his tailored suit. Chuck Bass was all about being better than everyone, and he knew he was certainly better than Dan Humphrey from Brooklyn.

I'm not here to cause trouble, Chuck. They both knew where they stood, they'd discovered it as Dan had sat drunkenly sat on the stoop of a brownstone admitting that they loved the same woman. They had become compadres in some ways on that day yet still bitter enemies. He never knew if Chuck would welcome him or go for the jugular.

Dan Humphrey can't trouble me, Chuck intoned as he glided over to the bar and clinked a few ice cubes into a cut crystal high ball then poured in what was probably scotch. He turned back to Dan and took a sip before returning to where Dan was standing.

What do you want?

They both knew what he wanted. There was one reason Dan would come to Chuck Bass for help.

Blair.

Have you talked to her, Dan asked. He saw something akin to pain pass through Chuck's eyes briefly, the pain of having the woman he loved choose another man. Dan was glad Chuck didn't know he and Blair had slept together, because all bets would be off at that point.

Another drink out of the glass.

No. Is that all you wanted Humphrey? Chuck arched an eyebrow. If so, you can leave.

It wasn't all. Dorota had said to talk to Chuck. If it wasn't because Blair had actually had contact with him, then it was something else.

What do you know about her, Dan asked. Do you know how she's doing? If she's been around town anywhere? Dan had scanned Gossip Girl and there were no sightings of Blair since they'd returned. Not a single one.

I know nothing, Chuck said quietly, irritation creeping into his voice, betraying its smoothness. The consulate event in the ballroom will be the first time I'll see her since she and Louie, Chuck practically spit out Louie's name, returned from their honeymoon, and even then I doubt I'll be allowed to get anywhere close to the princess.

Consulate event. Dan froze.

When is the event, he asked, carefully keeping his voice neutral.

Saturday, Chuck responded.

Dan stayed for a few more moments, suffered a few more insults from Chuck then made an excuse about meeting Nate in order to leave. As soon as he was standing outside the doors of The Empire he dialed Nate's number. Nate answered after one ring.

Well, I guess you are still alive.

Dan didn't bother with making small talk. He told Nate that he needed to talk to Lola. He had a plan and he needed her help.

Dan had a hard time sleeping over the next couple days. He wrote and rewrote what he was going to say to Blair when he finally got to see her over and over in his head. He just wanted to know why, why had everything changed, why had he been left hanging. Finally the day arrived and he put on his old cater waiter uniform and reported to the kitchen just as Lola had suggested, blending in with all the other staff. It was chaotic enough that he was able to slip away and find the ballroom. He made his way through the sea of empty tables to the double french doors that led out to the balcony. He was several floors up and the day was proving to be chilly. Dan shivered and found a large potted plant to crouch next to, then he waited. He wished he'd brought a coat.

The ballroom slowly filled up. At one point he heard some loud applause and the muffled announcement that the Prince and Princess of Monaco had arrived. He sat through a presentation of Monaco's primary scientific institute and its work on nanorobotics, he leaned against the cold stone wall of the Empire as the people inside ate their free-range duck and some fish dish that was also served at royal parties at the palace in Monaco. He listened to Louie drone on about how happy he was to spend time in the states. Then finally the waiters emerged and started clearing plates and a band started playing.

Dan peered through one of the age-warped panes of the french doors and watched as Blair and Louie circle around the dance floor. She was wearing a deep green silk gown and as he watched her all he could think about was that place where her neck sloped into her shoulder, where he had kissed and made her shiver, and he felt all the anger he'd been holding start to seep away. Blair had this way about her that always ended up in forgiveness.

She bowed her head toward Louie, the light catching emeralds that dangled from her ears and Dan thought he saw her smile a little. He saw Louie's hand rest possessively on the small of her back where the dip in her gown exposed her skin and Dan remember how hit felt under his fingertips as he kissed her like it was all he needed to live. Like she was air itself.

She was beautiful.

Dammit.

Maybe she was happy. Maybe this was where Blair was meant to end up, royalty, in the arms of a prince. For the first time Dan started to think that maybe he'd been wrong, maybe Rufus was wrong. Maybe he wouldn't go in and find her in the crowd, tap her on the shoulder and try to ask her what had happened. Maybe it was bet if he let go.

Dan was lost in thought so when the french doors clicked open he jumped and turned, then shrunk further into the shadows. He heard the click of high heels and wondered if whoever it was would glance his way, exposing him. Then his eyes widened.

It was Blair.

She walked over to the stone railing that surrounded the balcony, the light from inside the ballroom falling at just the right angles to make her breathtaking. Dan just stood and stared, watching her in silence. Then he saw them. Sparkling on her cheeks, her hand reaching up to wipe them, careful not to smudge her makeup.

Tears.

Dammit.

He saw her hand tremble slightly and heard her take in a deep breath. In that moment, Dan knew. It was an act. Blair was far from happy.

Dan stepped forward, standing just outside the shadows, only partially in the light. He opened his mouth, then closed it, not sure how to find the words, not sure how her name would sound, then he said it.

Blair.

She gasped a little and froze, then squeezed her eyes shut, like she was trying to ward off a bad dream. The word no formed on her lips, but she didn't turn toward him. Just stood there, looking out toward the city. Dan took another step toward the light.

Blair.

This time she turned toward him and her eyes widened in shock, moist with tears, full of such sweetness that it made him ache.

All the anger, and betrayal, and sadness slipped away as Dan stared at Blair. Their eyes met and they were Dan and Blair again, sleeping curled next to each other, laughing at each other's bad jokes, debating movies. They were back on the island, just the two of them, friends, lovers, fucking each other, and Dan felt a stab of naked desire like he'd never felt before, the kind that stole all air from his lungs and made the world tilt.

No. This time she said it out loud. You can't be here.

I need to talk to you Blair.

You don't understand, you can't...

She stepped closer to him with each sentence.

No one can see you here, it's...

Dan felt that sweet heaviness start to weigh him down and he knew that he would kiss her, his eyes going to her mouth, watching her form words, not caring what she was saying, wanting her to shut up.

...dangerous.

With that last word she crashed into his arms and he pulled her back into the shadows and their mouths devouring each other like people who had been starving and now had a huge meal placed before them, tongues tangling, her fingers going to the nape of his neck, finding the curls there, his arms encircling her, crushing him to his chest, wanting to feel every inch of her pressed against him.

Yes, being around Blair was very dangerous, but in more ways than Dan realized.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

The dress was vintage Dior couture, piles of emerald green silk that would cascade from her waist to the floor, trailing behind her, strapless, a dip in the back that went not too far but far enough. It complimented her skin and hair beautifully. It was perfect, sexy, reeking of old movie heroines and classic hollywood. It was fit for a princess. Normally a dress like this would have made Blair swoon.

Instead she wanted to vomit.

Louie hung it on the door of her closet, incased in a clear plastic bag. He made some small talk with Estee and placed a small case on her nightstand.

Wear these, Louie said flatly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her for the first time since coming into her room. It would be their first appearance together since she'd agreed to the Grimaldi's terms. He expected her to look good.

Blair hated that her room wasn't even her own anymore. Louie would visit every few days, making bland small talk but mostly ignoring Blair, and she felt like he was checking up on his latest asset.

Estee was there, always there, sleeping on the pull out couch, grumbling about the lack of real bed, rolling her eyes at Blair, sighing as if she had a million other things better to do than babysit the runaway princess. She ate breakfast in the sitting area, picking at her food, grumbling about Dorota's cooking as she glanced over at Blair. She watched her as she came out of the bathroom, asked where she was going when she started to walk out of the room.

The kitchen, or the study, or the living room Blair would tell her. Where else would she go? She was a prisoner. She wished her royal minder would go somewhere else and leave her alone.

The days were long. The nights were longer and Blair would turn her face into her pillow and let the tears flow down her cheeks, trying hard not to let Estee hear that she was crying. She grew numb. Everything real seemed far away, like something she'd dreamed. She stopped caring about anything. Serena, Nate, even Dan seemed like people who lived in a different reality.

Blair waited until Louie had been gone for a while. She could hear Estee flipping through the latest British tabloid, the pages making a soft crinkling noise as they turned. She grabbed her dressing gown and threw it over her pajamas, then padded toward the door.

Where, Estee started to ask, glancing up from her reading.

Kitchen, Blair snapped.

The tiles were cold on her feet and Blair realized she'd forgotten her slippers upstairs.

Hello Miss Blair, Dorota greeted her as Blair slid onto one of the stools. Blair sighed as Dorota turned to the fridge and proceeded to slide a plate of cut up fruit in front of her. Every time she came downstairs her maid would look at her with concern knit across her brow, then try to feed her.

I make bacon, extra crispy. Dorota place a couple strips on the plate.

Blair smiled wanly although they both knew she wouldn't eat it. She barely ate anything these days.

Miss Blair, Dorota started again, then stopped. Blair sighed and asked her what she wanted.

You not happy.

Blair said nothing. No, she wasn't happy. This was not her fairytale. She was a princess against her will, there was a beautiful couture gown hanging in her bedroom, and all she wanted was to be able to leave this place, to have the town car take her, take her to...

Stop.

She would not think about him. It did no good to think about him. It only hurt.

Dorota spoke again. She told Blair that she should be happy. This was her fantasy come true, after all. To be royalty. To be special. Dorota didn't know that Blair was far from special. She was a pawn in an elaborate social game. No one except her mother, Rufus and Lily and Dan knew that Blair had never made it to her honeymoon. Everyone else thought everything was okay, status quo, that she was living the dream.

I'm not happy, Dorota. It was all Blair would say. She pushed the plate away, stood up and walked back toward her room. With some pills maybe she could manage to sleep for the rest of the day. Sometimes the dreamless sleep that medication brought was her only escape.

Miss Blair, Dorota called after her. Blair did not answer, did not turn around, did not see the concern on the face of the person who had practically raised her. It was this concern that would cause Dorota to violate the household rules of not giving out any information the next day when she received a phone call and heard a familiar voice on the other end of the line.

Blair was starting to lose faith that there was a way out of this. Her mother told her Cyrus was working on it but the Grimaldi's had a team of highly skilled lawyers and it was looking more difficult than anyone had expected.

Finally the day of the event arrived. Blair slipped into the dress and stared at herself int the mirror. The warmth of the sun had faded from her skin, her eyes looked tired. The gray case turned out to have a pair of beautiful emerald earrings in them that complimented the dress perfectly.

She felt sick.

The evening was a blur. Louie was there, his hand guiding her through the crowd, his voice whispering into her ear.

Smile.

She didn't eat the food, just pushed it around her plate. Maybe someone would think the princess had an eating disorder. Maybe there would be rumor started about her pregnancy and there would be pictures of her with a circle around what the tabloids would speculate was a baby bump. Blair didn't care. Course after course came and anything she actually put into her mouth tasted like cardboard.

Louie introduced her to dignitary after dignitary and she continued to smile, the muscles of her face aching, the smile not quite reaching her eyes. She answered questions politely, keeping her answers mostly yes and no. Maybe there would be stories how the princess was out of it, how she'd answered questions incoherently and there'd be speculation that she was drunk or strung out. Blair didn't care. She just wanted to get through the night.

They danced, the room clearing to let the royal couple have the first dance and Louie's head dipped toward hers intimately and the women watching the sighed about how they were so in love and couldn't wait to tell their girlfriends over martinis and small plates how beautiful the princess had been, how she'd glowed.

Smile, Louie whispered again. So she did. She smiled as tenderly as she could and pretended for a moment that the shoulders her hands rested on belonged to someone else, that she could move her hands up around his neck, tangle her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck, and for just a moment she remembered what he'd smelled like that night and pain that almost made her gasp shot through her and she leaned slightly more into Louie's embrace.

Stop it. Just stop it.

The dance floor filled up with couples and Louie was about to drag her over to another man in a tuxedo when Blair suddenly needed to get out of there. She glanced around and noticed there were french doors leading out to what she thought was probably a balcony. She stretched up and whispered in Louie's ear.

I need some air.

Unhappiness flickered across his face. Her royal minder hadn't accompanied them since it would look odd to have her along. The bodyguards were at the doors. Blair could tell he was weighing whether or not he should let her go, and she again wondered how she'd ended up here, going from independent woman to a mere possession, a trapping, with no say.

Okay, Louie muttered.

Blair walked toward the doors, her eyes filling with tears, hoping no one noticed that the princess was crying, and only after she pushed through them and the chill of the night air hit her skin, did she allow the tears to fall.

Dammit.

She wiped at them frantically, willing them away, then stared out at the lights of the buildings around them, listened to the white noise of the traffic below. A year of this. How would she make it? Blair took in a deep breath and steeled herself to walk back into the ballroom, to keep playing the part.

That was when she heard her name.

Blair closed her eyes. She'd finally gone crazy. It was Dan's voice calling her name, and all of the sudden everything came flooding back, all the feelings and memories she'd been blocking, pretending that they didn't exist, because they hurt too much. His hands on her skin, the way he said her name, they way he talked in his sleep and usually about her. Suddenly she was back in the Caribbean and they were walking through town, and Dan was teasing her about something and she was laughing, and she was happy.

No.

Louie's words echoed in her head. He would hurt him. She knew he was serious. Dan couldn't be here. It was her imagination, it was the stress of the night, her mind was conjuring up his voice...

She opened her eyes.

Blair.

He was there, walking toward her, the light from the ballroom falling across his face, emphasizing his jawline, he hair falling into his eyes, and she noticed that he looked thinner and tired. She felt herself move toward him, a reflex of the soul, a pull into his orbit and she knew she should turn, walk away.

Louie would hurt him.

Then she was in his arms, crushed against his chest, their mouths colliding in a kiss very different from the sweet slowness in their hotel room. It was full of anger and hunger and want. They were back in corner of the balcony, Blair pushing Dan against the wall. Blair felt desire rip through her like she'd never known and she wanted him right there, wanted him to push the skirt of her expensive gown up and fuck her against the rough stone, in the shadows where the people who danced the night away couldn't see them. She wanted it to be rough and fast, for his hands to squeeze her arms, the stubble of his face to scrape her skin as he kissed down the column of her throat. She wanted him to mark her so she'd wake up the next day and know it wasn't a dream.

She needed to feel.

No.

Blair ripped her mouth from his and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder and the both stood there, breathing hard, shaking with want, unable to say anything, frozen. Her hands were around his neck, his rested on her hips.

Please.

His voice was husky, rumbling in her ear.

I can't, she whispered back, her face buried in scratchy polyester fabric, afraid to turn toward him, to see his lips swollen from her kisses, because she knew she'd have to kiss him again. She needed this so much, to feel again.

I had to see you, he murmured. He told her that he'd been mad at her and how all of that had evaporated when he'd seen her crying, and realized there had been a good reason that Rufus kept telling him to talk to her. He knew something was wrong.

Blair still couldn't look at him.

What's happening, Blair?

She didn't answer, just clung to him until she felt like she could lift her head and look at him and not feel like she was falling into a black hole. When their eyes finally met his were shining with tears, dark with desire, and something else, and she felt the heat start to spread again. Blair swallowed.

She told him what she could tell him quickly, whispering urgently, glancing around occasionally. That she was trapped, cut off from everyone. She told him that it was Louie who had shut down her phone. She told him she was obligated to a year. She told him that Louie knew about them, that he'd threatened to hurt Dan. She didn't tell him how much she'd missed him. That was the long version.

Sonofabitch, Dan muttered.

I have to go, Blair murmured. She didn't know how long she'd been on the balcony, it could have been an eternity, but Louie would come looking for her. Dan nodded as she stared into his eyes, then his face came closer, closer, and her breath hitched and he kissed her in a sweet, lingering way, a kiss that said to remember him, one that would keep her warm at night.

How could he see her again, he asked. Blair shrugged, then she realized that Dan had somehow figured out she was here tonight. She asked how he found out and he told her about talking to Dorota. Blair's lips twitched. Call Dorota, she told Dan.

He kissed her again, whispered that he couldn't let her go, tangled his fingers in her hair. Blair smiled the first real smiled she'd smiled in weeks. She had to go. She turned from him and smoothed the silk of her skirt and headed back toward the ballroom, not looking back, not able to look back. Louie would be waiting for her and she would go into his arms and play the part the rest of the night. She now realized that Blair Waldorf was not going to sit back and let this destroy her.

It was time to fight.

The next day she started watching. Instead of spending he days medicated, sleeping, trying to shut out the world, she sat and observed, making mental notes of the way different people interacted. Louie came and picked up the gown which she'd hung back on the door of her closet, the earrings back in their case, and this time Blair didn't try to block him out but watched, waiting for something to appear, something that would get her out of this mess.

If no one was going to help her, it was time for Blair to help herself.

A few days later it clicked. She realized what she had to do. Blair waited until Estee was asleep and slipped out of bed. She went to the kitchen and rang Dorota.

I need some hot chocolate, Blair told Dorota as her maid rubbed her eyes. She was in her robe and looked mildly annoyed.

And I need your help.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Dorota became Dan's lifeline.

It had been a week since the consulate event and sometimes Dan thought he might go completely insane. Insane with worry, insane with how much he wanted Blair. If he thought before was hard: standing by all that time before, watching her with Louie, wondering if she'd return to Chuck, playing the role of best friend when all he wanted to was take her in his arms and tell her they were no good for her and he knew who was, this was some type of exquisite torture that he'd never existed. He couldn't think about anything else, passing the days with the ghost of her kiss on his lips, distracted, trailing off in the middle of sentences, remembering how warm she'd felt in his arms, the dampness of her tears on his shirt, the way she'd tasted. He would find himself standing in the kitchen, the refrigerator door open and he wasn't sure why he was there or how long, or just staring blankly into the bathroom mirror, his toothbrush in hand.

Keep it together Humphrey.

Dorota was his lifeline. He would call her the same time every day, long after the sun had slipped below the skyline and the lights of the buildings had flickered on as the cleaning staff started their long nights emptying garbage cans and vacuuming floors; long after most people had eaten their dinners, turned on their televisions; long after they kissed their children on the forehead, read stories and said their goodnights. He would dial her number and she would answer on the second ring every time. Dorota being Dorota was, as always, punctual. She would say hello in her thick Polish accent and Dan would ask how she was, not entirely caring about the answer. Then Dorota would whisper in the phone, her voice hushed and full of secrets.

Miss Blair missed him.

Mister Louie had been to the penthouse that day.

Miss Blair said to say something about rum and moonlight, and he'd know what she meant. Dan had blushed a little with that message.

Dan asked when he could see her, picturing clandestine meetings in dark alleyways like classic Hollywood, she would glance both ways as she stepped through a dark doorway then collapse in his arms as they embraced and the camera would zoom in on their kiss. This image made Dan laugh a little at himself and how cheesy he'd become and decided that he and Blair had watched way too many old movies together. He also decided it felt good to laugh.

He found ways to spend his days. He opened his computer and finally the words started to flow. It wasn't the story his publishers wanted. It was a letter. Maybe a love letter, maybe not, but no matter what it was, it was to her.

Every day he wrote, telling her about his day, from the small details like what he ate for breakfast to the way the buds had started to pop out on the branches of the trees in Central Park. It would be spring soon and he told her that he'd seen small purple flowers struggling to push out of the cold ground the other day. He would describe the way the city smelled in the morning as storekeepers threw bleached water over the sidewalks to wash away the night's stench, or the colors of the sun as it slipped away, or that one night it was clear enough to see some stars through the lights of the city.

He wrote that he wished she were there.

Miles and miles of prose poured out, from the mundane to declarations that she was his muse, his inspiration, and Dan blushed as he wrote the words because he sounded ridiculous and in love. He waxed poetic about her hair, the chocolate brown depths of her eyes, how beautiful she looked when she wore green, the warmth of her smile. He described the curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts, the way her lips sighed against his.

Dan wrote his dreams, sexed up, lust-filled dreams where they ended up a tangle of legs and arms and sweat and spit, slickness and friction combined into release, and he wrote how he would wake moaning her name. Those words made him blush as well, but not in a cheesy way, in a way that made him feel hot and itchy, and he would stop writing for a while.

He wrote about his family, about his mother leaving them and how it had left a empty space that he didn't think he'd ever be able to fill. He wrote about his father, the one person who had always been truthful with him, who had stood by him, who was his rock. He explained Jenny, how she had needed to belong, told Blair that she was doing well, wondered if one day Blair might be able to forgive his sister.

He wrote and wrote, describing the rain on the windows, the way the cabbies yelled at each other, the sound of water dripping from the bathroom faucet in the middle of the night, what he ate for breakfast.

He wrote out the entire plots of movies, telling her what parts he thought she would like, predicting the moments they would disagree, writing long, funny passaged of imagined Dan and Blair banter. He sat on a bench at Moma staring at her favorite painting then wrote about the colors, the shape, the form, trying to recreate it for her.

He wrote that he missed her.

What Dan never wrote were the words he longed to say. Three words, eight letters that his fingers could not form on the keyboard. Words that really needed to be said out loud to mean something.

It felt good to write.

He returned to the family brunch, sitting at the table with Rufus on one side, watching Serena sparkle and laugh and captivate the room. He'd written about her that day, telling Blair how much he'd loved Serena, how she'd captivated him from afar, that she was indeed his first love, and there was part of him that would always be reserved for her. He also described how she was all shine and gloss, never any deeper than what you saw on the outside, free of any obligation to anyone around her, never realizing how much she could hurt others. She was part of his past.

Chuck was there too, offering up only an obligatory 'Humphrey' toward Dan, sitting next to Lily, their heads bent together discussing Chuck's recent charitable efforts. Dan watched them and realized that the piece of the puzzle that was needed to transform Chuck Bass into a human being was family and that Lily was the closest thing he had. He'd written that to Blair too, telling her that he saw a softness in Chuck at that moment and he'd kind of understood why she'd loved him.

Rufus put his arms around Dan's shoulders and asked if he'd been able to do what they'd talked about and Dan had nodded.

And is everything okay, Rufus asked.

Not really, Dan wanted to say. The woman he loved was being held hostage and while the only thing he wanted in this world was to hold her in his arms, he had to be placated with phone calls in broken English with her Polish maid, and he felt powerless, and sometimes he got so mad about the situation that he yelled into the emptiness of the loft, and sometimes he just curled up on the bed and held back the tears and missed her.

Instead he told Rufus that it was all okay for now. Because it was.

The days went slowly, and every morning he woke up and wondered if this would be the one when things would change. He kept writing, fingers flying across his keyboard, a missive to his Rapunzel trapped in her tower and as much as Dan would have liked to be her prince, Blair had had enough princes in her life. She was determined to do this herself and he needed to trust her, and he did. So he wrote and dreamed and waited.

Someday he might give the words he'd written to her, bind them up into a book, an even bigger love letter than Inside. Maybe it would be their anniversary and they would stay in and drink wine and she would have been dropping hints about appropriate gifts for weeks prior and he would be acutely aware that despite all the money he now had, he was still Dan Humphrey from Brooklyn and wonder at how he still felt so undeserving to be the love of Blair Waldorf's life. He would hand her his pages and pages of writing, from the sublime to the mundane, all his feelings bound up. He would hand her his heart, dissected and spread out onto paper.

Who was Dan kidding, he'd handed her his heart a long time ago.

Nate came over, wandering restlessly around the apartment, telling him he was looking better, that they'd been worried about him. He peered at the words on the computer screen and asked how the new book was coming. Dan shut his laptop and told him it was coming along fine.

Nate wanted to go out that night, said he missed his bro. Dan asked if Lola was teaching him the fine art of slang since it was unusual for Nate to use the term 'bro'. They'd ended up drinking beer at some hotel bar, Dan putting on his best I'm Listening face, trying to pay attention as Nate discussed various topics, none particularly interesting. Dan wondered how Blair had ever seen a life with Nate, a life of good hair and boring conversations. Maybe someday he'd ask her.

He'd made it home in time to talk to Dorota. The call was different this time.

Miss Blair has a plan.

A plan? Dan quizzed Dorota but she refused to tell him any details. Loose lips sink ships she declared and Dan smiled. Dorota was always quick with a well-timed cliche.

The words kept flowing, from his soul, through this fingers onto the computer.

That night he wrote about his day, then he wrote about how she hand changed him, how he'd truly been a judgmental prick, feeling superior to everyone around him. Then she came along, with her snide comments and hairbands and dismissive attitude and he hated her like he hated everything about the Upper Eastside. He told her how he'd told Rufus she was ninety five pounds of girly evil and Rufus had told him that there was something underneath. He wrote that Rufus was right. He'd seen it in her eyes that day in the hallway as she tried to wipe away the tears, that she was someone who was vulnerable. Seeing the real Blair Waldorf under all her scheming and takedowns, under her insults and injuries, had made Dan realize that people had good and bad, darkness and light, that life wasn't straight forward or simple, that a boy from Brooklyn could discover that a girl he hated was the only thing he needed in the world.

This was how Dan passed the time after seeing Blair that night on the balcony at the Empire, this was how he stayed sane. He waited He missed her. He dreamed about her. He wrote about her.

One night, not too long after Dorota had told him a plan had been concocted, Dan had been writing all day and was tired. He ordered take out and was about to settle down with a book when the phone rang. Dan glanced at the the caller ID and felt his body grow cold.

It was Dorota. He grabbed the phone.

What it is, Dan said without pretense. He always called her, she never called him. If she was calling him, something was wrong.

It's Miss Blair, Dorota said through the phone, sounding strange, tight. Dan felt dizzy. Something was wrong.

Tell me what's going on Dorota. His voice was low, worried. He felt anxiety start to bubble in his chest.

Come, please. Miss Blair, she...she told him she was leaving, and he...Mr. Louie, he was angry.

Dorota was whispering, her voice trembled a little. Dan felt like he was going to vomit. He squeezed his eyes shut, willed this conversation to trend toward something ridiculous, a typical Blair Waldorf emergency: she had lost her favorite Louboutin's, she'd found out that Penelope was going to wear the same dress she was to some event, some emergency that wasn't really an emergency except in Blair's world. But Dan knew none of this was true.

Tell me, Dorota. Dan took a deep breath and braced himself for what Dorota was about to say.

Miss Blair...she...she's hurt, not badly, but still...

Dan didn't say anything. He just shoved the phone in his pocket, Dorota still talking the other end of the line, grabbed his coat and wondered how long it would take him to get to Blair's penthouse, and what kind of trouble he'd get into for punching a prince in the face.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

The morning of her escape Blair woke up with dark circles under her eyes. She'd slept fitfully the night before, tossing and turning, her dreams vibrant and surreal. She stared at her face in the mirror and thought she looked different. Maybe older. Maybe more mature. Blair wasn't the same person she'd been months ago when she was giddy about being royalty, in love with with a wonderful man who turned out to be far from.

She hung her pajamas on the hook on the back of her bathroom door and stepped into the shower, closing her eyes, letting the warm water run over her body. Estee would be asleep for at least another hour. It gave Blair some time. She dried herself with a fresh soft towel, wrapped herself in her robe, then padded back into her bedroom and opened up her wardrobe. At the bottom was her overnight case, the one she would use when she was going to be out late and crash at Serena's or when she expected to be at Chuck's for a couple days. Blair pulled it out and started to put clothes into it. Not too many. She wasn't running away for a lifetime, but she was leaving, and with some luck she may not need much clothing anyway.

Blair blushed at her inappropriate thoughts. She was resurrecting the runaway princess , planning to leave Louie and the Grimaldi's behind, and here she was thinking about sex and Dan.

She didn't know if her plan would work. It all depended on how much the Grimaldi family valued their good image. Blair thought about the phone she'd slipped into the back of her cluttered vanity drawer and what it had on it. It wasn't something she'd want to get into the public realm if it were her in the pictures that Dorota has snapped. Blair was counting on them feeling the same.

After the consulate dinner Blair had started to actually pay attention, watch for something that might be the key to her gilded cage. Instead of checking out and feeling sorry for herself, she made mental notes.

Louie showed up every two days. He would do the same thing every time. He would arrive midway through the morning, walk into her suite, not bothering to knock. Blair would bite her tongue knowing that confronting him wouldn't help her escape.

He would make small talk with Blair, which she would ignore. He'd lost any right to pretend they were anything but mortal enemies when he and his mother had pulled out their list of demands and essentially made Blair their prisoner. He might tell her about an upcoming event and Blair nod and go back to reading, or flipping through the New Yorker, or whatever she was doing to try to make those few minutes go faster.

After that he would go out to the sitting area, like clockwork, every time, and sit down next to Estee. Blair would glance up from the pages she was pretending to read and watch them, deep in conversation, their heads bent together. She started to notice little things. Louie's hand would brush her shoulder. Estee would lean toward him, laughing. She couldn't hear what they were saying, their voices kept to whispers. She would feel like an intruder as she watched them.

Louie would leave without saying goodbye. Blair might not have thought anything of the whole encounter, expect she started to notice a pattern. Every time Louie would leave about fifteen or twenty minutes would pass, then Estee would stand up and glance toward Blair. She would smooth the fabric of the Royal Uniform she wore and tell Blair that she was going to do something. Sometimes it was the bathroom, or a snack. Sometimes she said she would be right back. Then she would be gone for about a half hour.

She was fucking Louie. It hadn't taken long to figure that one out.

And that was when Blair came up with her plan.

Dorota was game. She had a camera on her phone.

Feel like Georgina Sparks, sneaking around and making trouble, Dorota had whispered. Blair smiled.

It took a few days before they hit jackpot. Louie would show up, go through the same routine. Blair tried hard not to roll her eyes at what a creature of habit he was and wondered what she'd ever seen in this man. Then, like clockwork, Estee would excuse herself. At that point Blair would call for Dorota to bring her toast and jam. It was a code they'd come up with after some debate and Blair talking Dorota out of also using disguises and accents.

Blair had almost cheered when she saw the picture Dorota had managed to get. If the Grimaldi's didn't give her everything she wanted to keep this from getting out, Blair decided plan B had to involve some sort of witness protection program. There was Louie in one of the guest bedrooms, Estee straddling his hips, her skirt pushed up around her waist, her blouse unbuttoned and her breasts exposed. Louie had his eyes closed, he was slack jawed and clearly feeling very good. His pants were around his ankles and his hands were on her hips.

This was her ticket out.

She knew she wouldn't see Louie for a couple more days. It gave her time to plan, so by the time that morning arrived she had the entire thing scripted out in her mind. Blair went through it one more time as she applied foundation to cover up the circles under her eyes.

Black seemed appropriate for the occasion so Blair picked out a simple dress, nothing flashy. She slipped it on, pulled on her stockings. Her overnight case was on the bed. She went to the jewelry case on her vanity and opened it, her fingers bypassing all the neatly organized gold necklaces, diamond earrings, looking for only one thing.

A rock. Blue tinged like the sky. Blair held it in her hand and thought how something so inconsequential could mean so much. She went to her closet and put the rock into the pocket of her black raincoat, then carefully folded the coat and placed it next to the overnight bag.

Now all she had to do was wait.

The clock on her dresser ticked away the seconds.

Just as she expected, Louie arrived around 10 am. He looked crisp and fresh, his face smooth, his suit pressed. He strode into her room then stopped. He looked at her, standing in the middle of the room, fully dressed. His eyes went from her to the overnight case on the bed, the coat carefully folded, then back to her. Blair watched his face grow tense, his mouth thin.

Blair, what the hell are you doing?

She smiled and although her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure it echoed through the room, Blair kept her voice calm and measured. She told him she was leaving today. She was done with this game, and the Grimaldi's would let her go. No dowry, no threatening her mother's company, not hurting Dan. If not...

You will not do this, Louie interrupted, stepping toward her. She could see a vein bulging on his temple, his hands clenched into fists and Blair felt the coldness of fear tingling at the back of her neck. She took a deep breath.

Yes she would. It was over.

Louie turned to Estee who had joined him in the room by now. He told her to call the airport and have the jet ready to go, then to pack some of Blair's clothes. The would be returning to Monaco immediately. Then he launched into a tirade, his face growing redder. She had no right to make these demands, he would take her away from here, away from everyone who might help her, she would be going nowhere.

Blair felt removed as he yelled at her. She wondered how she could have ever loved this man, this controlling, angry man who did what his mother told him and care more about appearance than treating someone like a human being. This man who would willingly trap her in her own home.

I'm sorry, she said to Louie. None of that matters. I'm leaving.

That was when he grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her, and Blair felt like she couldn't breathe. All of the sudden she was back there, with Chuck, and the sound of breaking glass, and all the fear and betrayal and all she could think was...

...not again...

Then his hands let her go and Blair was sprawling backwards, arms flailing in a failed effort to keep herself from falling, and she felt her head hit hard against the wardrobe doorknob and tasted the metallic taste of blood in her mouth as she bit her tongue, and there was sharp pain somewhere but she couldn't tell where. It was some sort of slow motion nightmare, with Louie's face looking shocked, his mouth open, and Dorota standing in the doorway, a tray in her hand, her eyes wide.

Fuck.

Blair wiped her mouth and struggled to stand up, not noticing the streak of blood on the back of her hand. She shook her head, then managed to struggle to a stand. She should feel weak or scared but Blair felt none of those things. She felt strong. She felt pissed.

Get out.

Louie refused, telling her that she'd made him mad and if she hadn't, he wouldn't have hurt her. Why was it she picked men who refused to take responsibility, Blair wondered briefly. Blair narrowed her eyes. It was time to reveal her piece de resistance, time to twist the knife. She went to the vanity, opened the drawer and pulled out the phone. She held it up to Louie and he stared at it.

This, Blair spit out, is you fucking Estee. If you do not turn around and take your royal rottweiler with you, it will become the biggest Gossip Girl blast of all time. A divorce will be nothing compared to you fucking the help while your new bride saved HIV+ orphans in Africa. You and your machiavellian mother will leave tonight and if you ever return, ever mention the dowry, ever threaten my family again, ever lay a hand on me, there will hell to pay.

Louie swallowed but said nothing.

Get out, Blair said again.

His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, to call her a bitch, to find a way to have the last word. Then it closed and Louie turned around and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Blair alone. She just stood there, staring at the door, the silence roaring in her ears, her body vibrating with a strange electricity. The doorknob turned and Blair couldn't move. Dorota's head peered around the door, her eyes worried.

Miss Blair, you okay?

Blair felt her entire body release and she slowly crumpled to the floor, her hands balled into fists, tears streaming down her face, her shoulders shaking. She curled into a ball, pulling her knees to her chest and she sobbed.

That was how Dan found her.

Blair, omygod, Blair, areyouokay.

His hands were on either side of her face, and he was kissing her, on the forehead, cheeks, kissing trails of tears that wet her cheeks, and finally on her lips, pressing softly, firmly.

I did it, she told Dan. Blair had freed herself.

He'd come as fast as he could, he told her as he kissed her hair, her head resting on his chest. They were still on the floor of her bedroom, Blair's legs askew, Dan kneeling next to her, holding her in his arms.

Dorota said you were hurt.

Blair remembered the crack as her head had hit the wardrobe. She felt back of her head and it was swollen and tender. She told Dan she was okay, nothing more than a lump and some bruising.

He smiled for the first time, and Blair mustered up a wan, sad smile back.

Take me home, she said softly.

You are home, Dan answered.

Not anymore. This was her prison and she didn't know if it could ever feel like home again. She would later ask her mom to sell the penthouse because the memories were just too overwhelming.

No, Blair said quietly. She looked up into his face and resisted the urge to push his hair back. They sat there, just looking at each other, her eyes studying his face, and Blair thought of everything she wanted to tell him.

I need you.

I want you.

I love you.

The words didn't come, and they didn't need to. They had time. Time for movies and long lazy afternoons reading on the couch. Time for afternoon walks in Central Park and holding hands. They had time for sex and time to make love. Nothing had to be said at that moment because Blair knew that Dan wasn't going to walk away and neither was she. So she didn't tell him those things. She'd find another time, and maybe those words would come out over candlelight or as as she tipped over the edge into the abyss, Dan's mouth on her skin, whispering her name into her ear. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck, inhaling the way he smelled, memorizing it, imprinting the feel of his skin and whispered quietly, softly, sweetly.

No, take me home. To Brooklyn. To you.


	9. Chapter 9

Have I seen this before, Dan murmured, rubbing Blair's wrist and studying the silver bracelet she was wearing. The bracelet a delicate silver filigree cuff, a blue tinged stone in the center. It sat lightly on her skin and he ran his fingers over the stone, feeling its smoothness. It looked vaguely familiar and Dan wondered if he'd seen it on display somewhere on one of their shopping trips, or maybe she'd worn it before.

It was a hot day late in the summer and they were lying on Dan's bed, wearing nothing but their underwear, the cotton sheet cool against their skin as a fan blew hot air around the room. Earlier Blair had yet again suggested that air conditioning might be a good idea and Dan had grinned as she pulled at her shirt and fanned herself with her hand, and then suggested that maybe all those clothes weren't helping anything, and instead of this leading to at least a lot of kissing and maybe more, Blair had agreed, stripped down to her bra and panties, grabbed her book and headed to the bedroom.

Now they were all sprawled out, their legs entangled, Blair absently rubbing her foot back and forth across the back of Dan's calf. She was on her stomach reading a book, he had been writing but his laptop was now abandoned and now he was lying next to her on his back, doing his best to distract her.

Hmmmmm, she intoned, half ignoring him as he played with the bracelet, tracing its delicate design.

It's pretty, Dan said, trailing a finger up the inside of her arm. Blair shivered a little then swatted at his hand.

Knock it off, Humphrey. I'm getting to a good part.

Dan smiled and his fingers returned to their previous mission to completely distract.

Summer was almost over and soon their days would be filled with internships and classes and real life would intrude, but for the meantime it was just Dan and Blair, holding hands, Dan and Blair, going to the movies, Dan and Blair spending their nights and days exploring each other in ways that seemed endless.

He placed a soft kiss on Blair's shoulder and she shrugged him off, one finger in her mouth as she chewed on a fingernail, her eyes glued to the pages of her book.

Later Humphrey.

Dan looked at the clock on the nightstand. A couple more hours and he'd have to head to his publisher for a meeting to discuss the progress on his next book. He contemplated cancelling the meeting, wanting to stay there, with her, anticipating that with a little more effort he could effectively guarantee she would find him more interesting than whatever plot point had caught her attention.

It had been four months since they fled Louie and the penthouse. They never talked about what had happened after that night, when Blair had broken free and asked him to take her home, and he'd wanted to do nothing else but whatever she asked. They had arrived at the loft and Blair dropped her overnight case by the door as Dan folder her into his arms, his mouth crushing hers with a bruising kiss. He was starving for her, devouring her. They had barely made it to the bedroom and they only emerged after almost a week, when Rufus had politely knocked on the loft door and told them they should stop ignoring his phone calls and come over for brunch. Blair was wearing one of Dan's shirts and a bad case of bedhead, so she jumped into the shower and Dan had followed her, yet another situation of distraction, and when they finally arrived at the Van Der Woodsen/Humphrey penthouse they were greeted with a knowing smile and Lily telling them they'd kept some waffles warm in the oven.

Chuck hadn't been at that brunch and neither had Serena.

The only time they talked about it was the day Blair had signed her divorce papers. She shut the door of the loft after handing the manilla envelope to the courier and when she turned around she had tears in her eyes and unspeakable sadness on her face. Dan had kissed her on the temple and led her to the couch and asked her to wait for a moment. He went to his office and emerged with thick stack of paper, then handed it to her.

I wrote this for you.

She had taken his letters, the ones he'd poured his heart into, and cloistered herself in his bedroom. Dan felt strangely restless, nervous, so he decided to take a walk, not caring about any particular destination, trying not to think about what he'd willingly laid out in front her. She was still reading when he returned, so he decided to start a movie on his laptop, not really watching it, glancing toward the door of his bedroom now and then, waiting, waiting.

What would she think?

Finally the door to his bedroom opened and Blair emerged, walking over to where he was sitting on the couch. She closed the laptop, settled herself into his lap, then, placing a hand on either side of his face, leaned in and gave him a long, sweet kiss. She pulled back and studied his face, her eyes shining with tears and Dan had never seen her look more beautiful. They sat like that, her staring at him, studying him, the sounds of the street drifting through the open windows, their hearts beating in unison, their breathing going in and out and in and out in time. Finally Blair spoke into the silence.

Daniel Humphrey, she said softly, sweetly, and he thought he may never tired of hearing her say his name. That was the most amazing, wonderful thing I've ever read. I love you.

Since fleeing her penthouse they'd found a myriad of ways to make each other pant, quick and hot ways, or slow ways that made them both want to scream, but that night, after Dan had given her what was essentially his heart and Blair had given hers back in return, they made love. It was slow and sweet, full of tenderness, feelings that went beyond words, communicated through touch and it was like Blair had opened a floodgate, chanting 'I love you' over and over, whispering it across his skin, trying to sear it into him, leave a permanent mark.

Afterward, as she was tracing random patterns across his abdomen with her french manicured fingernails, Blair told Dan he should take it to his publisher. It was the perfect companion to Inside, she said, a love letter from Dylan to Claire. Dan had protested, telling her it was for her, but Blair had insisted. He was talented and he clearly did best when he wrote from his heart. She had smiled up at him the lowered her head and started trailing short kisses up his chest and he shuddered, and they both forgot about his career as a writer for a while.

Blair had been right. His publisher loved it and now it would be released in the fall, a thin follow-up to Inside, an epilogue. Dan liked to think of it as a beginning. He would write the dedication one night, sitting in his office as Blair slept curled under a white cotton sheet in his bed, and after he thanked his family, his friends, he thanked her.

To Blair. This love letter is for you.

There would be a short book tour over NYU's Winter break and Dan had promised Blair he'd be home in time to spend their first Christmas together.

At the moment Christmas seemed like a lifetime away as they sweltered in the heat. Dan sat up and reached for the glass that was sweating on the table by the bed. It was mostly water but there was some ice still floating it. He grabbed one of the half-melted ice cubes and pressed it to the back of Blair's neck. She jumped.

Fuck! Humphrey!

Suddenly her book was whacking him on the side of the head. Dan smiled and feigned injury. She whacked him again and laughed. He loved the sound of her laugh.

We could be doing something a little less domestic, Dan declared, turning onto his side now that he had her attention, bringing his mouth close to her ear and whispering dirty things.

Humphrey, she exclaimed again, you're not very good at this. Dan nibbled on her earlobe and noticed that the blush that was creeping up her face said differently. His wandered up her thigh, toward the edge of her panties. Blair closed her eyes, her mouth falling open.

Dan, she gasped, and he felt a small moment of triumph. He was making headway in his goal to get her to shut her book and give him some attention, and he knew it because she had transitioned from 'Humphrey' to 'Dan', always a good sign.

She opened her eyes and looked at him.

I just want to finish my book.

There had been many unfinished books over the summer, and unfinished movies, and unfinished breakfasts, lunches and dinners. There had been cancelled parties and missed museum outings. They had left a trail of unfinished business everywhere they went.

And I DON'T want you to finish your book, Dan murmured, his mouth muffled against the column of her throat as he worked his way down.

I noticed, Blair panted. The book was discarded onto the floor as Blair rolled upwards and all of the sudden she was straddled over his hips, looming above him. She bore down on his groin and Dan licked his lips and swallowed in anticipation.

Bastard.

He smiled. Mission accomplished.

They'd fucked in so many different ways since she'd asked him to take her home. They'd done up against the loft door because they couldn't wait, on the floor in the kitchen, dinner preparations forgotten for the moment, on the couch while a movie played, before breakfast and in the middle of breakfast and after breakfast as well, in the shower, in his bed more times than he could count, on a chair with Blair grinding down on him sweet and slow. This time it was playful, tussling and rolling around the bed, laughing until everything became too intense and too wonderful and their laughter was replaced with moans, their bodies slick with sweat sliding up against each other, then Dan felt all tight and spread out all at once and he grunted up against her and called out her name, and OH GOD, and she whispered his in his ear, and then they collapsed together, panting, hot, stinking like summer sweat and sex and it was in so many strange ways a really good smell.

She fell asleep with her head on his shoulder, her hair slightly damp from exertion, and Dan stayed awake, stroking her shoulder softly with his fingers, memorizing her face and imprinting this moment in his brain, another memory in the catalog of memories he was collecting. He looked at the delicate bracelet that he'd been admiring earlier and suddenly he realized what had looked familiar about it earlier.

It had been one of the first times he'd left the hotel and Dan had ended up sitting on the beach for what seemed like hours. It was secluded and quiet, just the sound of the ocean, the occasional car rumbling down the nearby road. It was before he'd lost control and kissed her, her mouth tasting of rum and coconut, and he had almost tripped in his haste to make it to the bed so he could pull her clothes off and his clothes off and their skin could finally meet. It was before Rufus and heartbreak and Blair being held hostage and finally her escape. It was before their halcyon days of domestic bliss and endless sex and discussions about Russian literature that went long into the night. Before Dan would catch her gaze in the early morning light over chocolate croissants and strong coffee and she would flash him a smile of pure happiness and Dan thought he might never cease to be amazed that the woman he had longed for longed for him as well.

It was before all of that.

He had sat there on that beach, thinking. About her. How underneath her rapier wit and her snarky remarks and dressings downs and snide comments, Blair Waldorf was someone who ultimately just wanted to be loved, and Dan knew he wanted to love her back. He looked down and there on the beach, smooth from tumbling around in the waves was this bluish tinged rock. Dan picked it up and decided he would take it back. He wasn't Chuck, who could buy empires for Blair if he wanted to. He wasn't Louie, who could give her prestige and a fairytale. He was just Dan Humphrey, and all he could offer on that day was a stone that reminded him of the clear blue sky that loomed above him, all he could bring her was this small part of this moment to share.

Now Dan stared at this same stone, its edges soft and round, and he smiled. She'd kept it.

Dan felt his eyelids drift shut as a post-sex stupor took over, his body feeling heavy and languid, and he drifted off to sleep. They lay there, together, their breathing deep and slow, Blair occasionally stirring and nestling closer to him, the sun streaming through the windows of the loft, the hum of the fan drowning out the noise from the street.

Dan and Blair napping on a late summer afternoon.

The End


	10. Epilogue

_Author note: and now I am done. Thanks to everyone for reading this. It's been a labor of love and I have enjoyed all the comments. xoxo :) I'm sure I have a few more stories roiling around in my head, so stay tune. ~Sophia_

**Epilogue**

Dan and Blair get married, but not right away. She tells Dan one night over candlelight that she wants to marry him, but she's belonged to too many men: Chuck, Louie. She needs marriage to not feel like becoming someone's possession. Dan nods and he's okay with her terms because he knows neither of them are going anywhere.

They date. Blair doesn't want to live together. For her it seems like letting go of all her dreams of love and marriage, but she practically lives at the loft anyway, her toothbrush in the bathroom, her clothing inching Dan's out of his dresser. They go to work and school, Dan silently handing her coffee as she's pouring over her schedule for the day at her internship, Blair placing a sandwich next to him as he writes through dinner yet again.

She keeps a studio on the Upper East Side, her sanctuary, where she can sit and think. Sometimes he stays over, but it never feels entirely like home.

It's a beautiful spring day and the air is filled with the scent of cherry blossoms. It's simple, much simpler than Blair's teenage fantasies. She's not even wearing white. Dan looks handsome in his suit and tie. They are surrounded by their friends and family, Eleanor and Cyrus, Rufus and Lily, even Jenny. Serena is her only attendant, her smile radiant and full of love.

It had taken Serena some time to come to terms with Dan and Blair. She'd avoided them for the entire summer and into the fall. Finally Blair had decided it was time to reach out or lose her friend entirely. It was a simple invitation to coffee which turned into hours of talking, reconnecting, Serena tearing up as she told Blair that she thought she would never love someone as much as she loved Dan, that it hurt her physically to see them together. That was why she'd stayed away. Blair thought about how she'd loved Chuck and how many times she'd felt physical pain as she watched him with other women. She understood.

Things had been better after that.

Dan and Blair would dance at Serena's wedding. They would dance at her second wedding too, as well as her third.

A simple quartet is playing as Blair walks across the grass toward Dan. Chuck is sitting in a chair close to the aisle and their eyes meet. He flashes Blair a smile and she smiles back. They have reached some sort of truce.

Chuck had followed the final scenes of Inside too closely. Neither Dan or Blair heard much of him for what seemed like a couple years after her escape from the clutches of the Grimaldis, only snippets and gossip, none of it good. Chuck's eternal smooth demeanor seemed to be cracking slowly and there are more and more whispers over cocktails at parties about his drunken behavior and womanizing. Blair felt sad every time she heard one of the salacious stories. Then one night the phone rings and it's Lily on the other line. Chuck is in the hospital. He tried to kill himself.

Dan understands when Blair rushes to the hospital. He brings her food as she holds vigil at Chuck's bedside. Chuck has a tube down his throat that his helping him breath and she hears the staff things like 'polysubstance overdose' in hushed tones. For a week she sit there, holding Chuck's hand, trying to see the man she had loved through all the tubes. It would be a long time before she would be able to get the beeps and hisses of the intensive care unit out of her head.

Chuck pulled through. They take the tube out and he wakes up. Blair finally comes home, exhausted, and collapses into bed and sleeps for almost 24 hours. Dan just holds her in his arms.

Almost dying changes Chuck. He leaves New York for a while after he locates his mother living in Paris and moves there to be closer to her. For the first time in his life he doesn't feel like there's an emptiness that can't be filled. They develop a relationship but ultimately Chuck realizes that Lily has always been the one who was there for him. He returns to New York and finds Lily in the penthouse and there are tears as she tells him that he has always had family even when he didn't feel like it. That's when Lily tells him about Blair's vigil, and Chuck realizes that his hazy recollection of her voice wasn't a narcotic induced dream. He thought he was imagining things, conjuring her up in his most desperate moment.

Blair loves you, Lily told him. She may not have been in love with you for a long time but it doesn't mean that you aren't part of her.

Chuck would never be a big part of Dan and Blair's life. Things were too painful for Blair to ever be entirely casual. He had been able to tell her that he was happy for her. He was able to come to their wedding. Chuck would leave New York shortly after that and return to Europe. One day he would run into Eva and for the first time in a long time someone would take his breath away like Blair used to. He would end up being actually happy, just not in the way he'd imagined and not with the person he'd imagined, and that was okay.

Nate stands next to Dan watching Blair walk toward them. He was pretty much their biggest fan, offering unwavering support for his two favorite people, genuinely happy to see them together. Lola is sitting in one of the aisles, her hands absently rubbing her swollen pregnant belly. Two weeks after Dan and Blair are married Cordelia Archibald would come screaming into the world and Dan and Blair would be her loyal and proud godparents.

Nate and Lola would go on to have three more children. He would end up selling the Spectator and going into politics just like his grandfather wanted him to. Nate was someone who felt eternally empty and restless, never doing anything for himself, and many years later he would find himself having an affair with a vacuous blonde intern who giggled at his every word while Lola thought he was working late. He didn't know who he was or what he wanted, but all that would change with Lola's cancer diagnosis and as she lay in bed dying a slow and unfair death, he would sit in the other room, his head in his hands, tears running down his face as he told Dan that it was the most horrible thing to finally realize that someone was the love of your life just as you were about to lose them.

Nate would change after that, no longer living his life for other people, quitting politics, devoting his time to his children, establishing The Lola Archibald foundation to raise money for cancer research. Dan and Blair would spend weekends with him and the kids during the summer, and Dan remarked how happy Nate seemed.

Nate and Serena would run into each other one day, much later, her sitting at a bar in the airport on her way back from California, having a drink before facing her mother and breaking the news that she'd be divorcing for a third time. Nate on his way to a fundraising event in Washington DC. They would hug and talk and both left each other feeling strangely happy and bubbly. He would call her the next day, and then the next, and not long after that Serena would move back to New York and not long after that they would marry. Full circle, Blair would murmur as she helps Serena into her dress that day. It was a simple affair at the courthouse followed by brunch at the Van der Woodsen/Humphrey penthouse. For both Nate and Serena it would be the last time they were married and one day Serena would be helping the youngest of her step kids with her homework and planning the oldest's wedding and she would realize that she was happy.

Lily and Rufus are sitting in the front row, their hands were clasped tightly together as Blair glides past them. They were so much like her and Dan, the princess and the pauper, and they are radiating happiness. Blair would see that same happiness a few years later when Lily cradled up a tiny, wrinkled right red baby girl her arms, her first granddaughter who would become the center of their lives. Rufus proclaimed her beautiful and Blair would smile up at Dan who was stroking her hair and smiling like he might burst. Their family brunches would be filled with high pitched voices and the pitter patter of little feet after that.

Life would go on. They would move, needing more space for their second baby. She would leave her job to start doing design work and Dan would be in the front row during her first fashion week show. He would spend his days chasing tiny feet and wiping sticky hands, writing all night. His third book would be published to mixed reviews and Blair would tell him that she was sure another masterpiece lurked in there. They would fund a young writers collective and Dan would start teaching some classes at NYU. They would vacation with Nate and Serena and the whole Archibald clan. Lily and Rufus would start to slow down, getting grayer around the edges. They would have boring days, mundane days, arguments over simple things, but still Dan and Blair would never lose sight of how much they love each other.

Blair knows none of this as she stands in front of Dan and places her hands in his. He'd asked her if she wanted him to use the vows he'd written so long ago, the ones she said had peered into her soul. Blair thought about Louie. He'd left the city the night she'd escaped from her penthouse, at least a lifetime ago, and returned to Monaco. She'd heard updates from time to time. He'd find some heiress to marry him and make his mother happy but had kept Estee as his mistress. She also discovered that his bisexuality was the worst kept secret in Monaco and that he had a thing for pool boys of Mediterranean descent. She felt even more betrayed than ever. Even if Dan had written the vows, they were tinged with Louie and the disaster her life almost became. So she asked Dan to start again.

Dan's hands are shaking and he clears his throat a little. Blair's eyes are shining with tears. He pulls her close to him before the officiant can start the ceremony and quickly whispers in her ear.

I love you.

Blair smiles and whispers those words back. The ceremony will be quick and after they eat a lot of good food and are buzzing with champagne and happiness, the town car will whisk them away on their honeymoon, and Blair will admire the ring on her hand and Dan will laugh about how so long ago when she was flinging insults at him on the steps of the Met and he was wondering how she and Serena could be friends, that they could never have imagined being here.

Together. Married. In love.


End file.
